


Dance Until Dawn

by Snickfic



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Celebrations, F/M, First Kiss, human/non-human - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-16 16:09:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13639698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snickfic/pseuds/Snickfic
Summary: “Wow,” Peter says.Gamora smiles to herself and turns to give Peter the full effect of the sleek, filmy scrap of fabric borrowed from a minor Xandarian legislator’s own closet. “I’m told it’s extremely fashionable,” she says. “And very expensive.”





	Dance Until Dawn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [interabang](https://archiveofourown.org/users/interabang/gifts).



> This is really just an excuse for me to put everyone in fancy clothes. I hope you enjoy. <3

“Wow,” Peter says.

Gamora smiles to herself and turns to give Peter the full effect of the sleek, filmy scrap of fabric borrowed from a minor Xandarian legislator’s own closet. “I’m told it’s extremely fashionable,” she says. “And very expensive.” 

“I believe it.” Peter looks good, too. He’s in full red Ravager leathers, and Gamora is not entirely certain all the attendees at this victory ball will approve. But then the Guardians did help save the galaxy a third time, this time from Thanos himself. Memories of old transgressions will be dim tonight.

Rocket strolls into the commons from his own room, his fur looking extremely sleek. Groot lumbers in behind him. “So we gonna start this party or what?” Rocket asks.

“Milady,” Peter says, and offers Gamora his arm. It only takes thirty seconds and some snickering from Rocket for Gamora to figure out what to do with it.

Xandar is a proud republic. Tonight, it celebrates like a monarchy—like Gamora’s father’s kingdom did, once upon a time, though of course Gamora was always too young to do more than make a brief appearance and then run off to cause the cooks trouble in the kitchens, with the nobles’ children. But tonight she walks into the Atrium of Ethics on Peter’s arm and accepts a flute of something palely pink and fizzy from a waiter who passes. The Atrium’s ceiling stretches far, far above her head, lit with the soft glow of a half-dozen shifting colors, its vast reaches converted tonight from solemn hall to ballroom.

“Oh hey, there’s your sister,” Peter says. Gamora follows his line of sight. Nebula wears nothing new or soft or expensive. She stands near Valkyrie, not quite touching, though her fingers twitch as though she wants to.

“I’m going to say hello,” Gamora says.

When Nebula sees Gamora coming, she relaxes a fraction, looking marginally less ready to bolt. “Sister,” she says.

Gamora knows better than try to hug Nebula in public. She squeezes Nebula’s hand. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” she asks, sweeping her gaze across the Atrium, filled with thousands of souls, a hundred races or more. They’re all loud and giddy, as much from relief as from the fizzy alcohol in the flutes. 

“Amazing,” Nebula repeats skeptically—or maybe just unwilling to admit she’s impressed. 

“We did it,” Gamora says.

Nebula snorts. “I did it, you mean.”

She says it flatly, without triumph or any of the terrifying blankness Gamora saw in her eyes those first weeks afterward. “You did it,” Gamora agrees. She squeezes Nebula’s hand, and then, when that seems insufficient, she leans in and kisses Nebula’s cheek.

She steps back and gives Valkyrie a nod. Valkyrie edges a little nearer Nebula. She’s resplendant in her armor, terrifying in her warrior facepaint, altogether a worthy protector. Gamora has never heard the story of how Nebula and Valkyrie became what they are in that period when everyone believed they were dead, and she doubts she ever will, but she’s grateful for it all the same.

Gamora drinks more of the fizzy stuff after that, sits out a dance with Drax, receives the thanks of dozens of people she’s probably never met and definitely doesn’t remember. Nova Prime stops her slow, majestic progress through the crowd to take Gamora’s hand and bow her head over it.

She grows warm and pleasantly tipsy. She watches the crowds upon crowds, dancing their celebration.

Peter finds her like that. He’s had plenty of the fizzy stuff, too, his eyes bright. “You’re not out there,” he says, gesturing to the ballroom floor.

“I don’t dance,” she reminds him.

“Right, I forgot,” he says solemnly. “Hey, you know they have balconies in this place? I know how you like a balcony.”

“Oh?” Gamora says, biting back a smile.

“Come on.” Peter offers her his arm again, and this time she knows just how to tuck her hand inside the crook of his elbow. Peter works them slowly through the crowd, which parts just long enough to let them through and then closes seamlessly behind them. Finally they pass through a heavily-curtained doorway, and on the other side, as promised, is a balcony, open to the night. Colors shimmer in the darkened sky, the product of perpetual sunspot activity from Xandar’s primary star. Street lamps light the city below.

Peter puts his arm around her shoulders. Gamora welcomes the warmth; there’s a chill in the air out here, and her filmy expensive dress was not designed for the elements. “It’s beautiful,” Gamora says.

“Yeah,” Peter says. When he turns to him, he is, predictably, looking at her. Once upon a time he’d have been smirking, his mouth already opening on something that would irritate her. But somewhere along the way he’s lost the smirk, and he just looks fond.

It’s that fond smile that she leans up and kisses. Peter’s breath catches. “Really? We’re doing this now?”

“Shh.” She presses a finger to his lips. “It’s not unspoken if you talk about it.” 

“Fair enough,” Peter says, and bends to kiss her again. His thumb slides under her shoulder strap and brushes gently back and forth across her collarbone. The galaxy is safe, and Gamora is fizzy with Xandarian alcohol, and Peter Quill is kissing her, again and again and again.

[end]


End file.
